A Joyeux Noël
by Riene
Summary: Their first Noël together brings surprises for Erik. Set a few months after Second Chance. Complete, one-shot, humor and sweetness. Please read and review :) Merry Christmas, everyone!


**Author's Note** —Some months after _Second Chance_ ended, Erik and Christine celebrate their first Christmas together.

Ah, yes—The Usual Disclaimer. Sadly, the characters of Erik and Christine, the Daroga and Darius are not mine, belonging as they do to the heirs of Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, to Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber and the RUG. Only the plot, setting, and other characters are mine. Alas, I make no profit from this endeavor; the only reward I receive is the joy of creation and the occasional review. The errors, unfortunately, are mine.

This story was selected as the 3rd place over all winner in the 2016 _A Very Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest,_ courtesy of Not A Ghost3!

Please read and review. Merry Christmas, everyone!

A Joyeux Noël

2016

by Riene

For such a small thing, it completely possessed his attention.

Four days earlier it had appeared on the lid of the polished grand piano. No larger than the size of his hand, a small box wrapped in intricate folds of gilded paper, tied with a fancy silk bow. And his name, written in Christine's graceful, elegant penmanship. _Erik._

He'd eyed the box suspiciously. _What is this?_ he had demanded, and his Christine had smiled. _It's a gift, Erik…for Christmas!_ He reached for it and heard her golden peal of laughter. _No no, you can't have it now! You must wait until Christmas morning!_

He'd scowled. He'd never received a gift…and now was not allowed to touch it.

It was their first Christmas together. Last year, well, last year didn't bear thinking about. Christine had pondered once, in his hearing, about the German custom of bringing a small living fir tree into the house to decorate, but after his one incredulous look she'd dropped the subject. However, the season had brought out a side of this girl he'd never seen. The apartment gleamed with polish and the fragrance of fresh evergreen boughs draped across the mantle and wreathing the door. One look at her shining eyes had quelled the sarcastic comment on his lips.

Over the last week she'd begun a flurry of baking. Traditional Swedish cookies and pastries, French treats, and a cake appeared. _Who is going to eat this?_ he'd demanded, and she'd laughed. A beautifully carved crèche had appeared, and Nadir could only shrug sheepishly. _Christine wanted it_ , he'd explained. For Noël.

Cards appeared and cards were sent. He'd seen Darius departing with a stack of envelopes and parcels the other day, a slice of _stollen_ in his hand and a guilty look on his face. A baffled Erik watched as Nadir had been pressed to take home a plate of treats after their weekly chess game, much to the Persian's scarcely-concealed delight. Christine seemed determined to make their first Noël a memorable one. And now this package had appeared.

When she was not looking he'd carefully slid the small box forward, gently shaking it. A rattle or rustle? Perhaps just tissue paper. A small weight, not a heavy object. He caught Christine's amused eyes and with a haughty look replaced it.

But the box continued to torment. He could not raise the lid of the grand piano with it in the way, so one afternoon he plucked it with two disdainful fingers and placed it on the side chest. Coming into the room later, his eyes had immediately sought the top of the piano…and felt a frisson of terror when the box was not there. With panic twisting his stomach, he quickly found and replaced the small package in its rightful spot atop the piano. After all, it would not do for Christine to think he'd somehow…disposed of it, when she'd been so delighted with her plans.

They had never exchanged gifts before. Neither had bought the other a wedding present. Erik had not known of the tradition, and Christine had smiled softly. _You're all that I want_ , she'd said, and had drawn his hideous head down for a kiss.

At her birthday, he'd ordered Christine to sit and shut her eyes, then crept up behind her and carefully, so carefully, draped the gold and sapphire necklace about her smooth white throat, fastening the clasp with trembling hands. She'd gasped, touching it with startled fingers, then ran to the mirror to admire it. Christine had shown her delight in his offering later that night, with kisses and…well. He smiled smugly. She'd wished to celebrate his own birthday in return, but Erik truly had no idea when that date might be. His life and presence, so unwanted, had never been cause for celebration.

His Christmas gift to her, a set of shining brown furs, lay hidden. He had shamelessly ordered the Persian to acquire then, and price had been no object. A small thrill went through him at the thought of adorning his beloved in such softness.

She was singing at La Madeleine tonight. He'd used the telephone to order her a carriage and was half-tempted to order another. Surely in that great Neo-Classical stone building there must be a shadowed corner for ghost to hide, to hear that pure, golden soprano rise above the chorus?

The package winked at him, glimmering in the firelight. All at once, he feared…what if he did not, perchance, _like_ her offering? Christine would be crushed. Surely he should examine the gift early, the better to school his voice and face into an expression of feigned delight? She would never know that he'd peeked.

The sides were gummed down.

He swore.

* * *

Though many invitations had been extended, Christine did not sing Christmas Eve, instead choosing to stay home with Erik.

Moving into his arms, she brushed her lips lightly against his. "This is our first Noël," she said softly, running a hand up his arm. "I want to spend it with you."

"Others should hear your voice," he replied gruffly.

"You're all that matters."

For a moment he was tempted to argue, but she could be quite persuasive, and it was hard to think when her lips were so soft against his throat.

In the end, Christine went to the early mass, but only as a parishioner. Dinner afterwards was a simple affair, and then Christine drew his large bony hands into her own, pulling him over to the piano.

"Play for me?"

He seated himself at the bench, flipping the tails of his formal coat back and flexing his long fingers. "Of course, my dear. What do you wish to sing?"

Carols, of course. She stood beside the curve of the piano, her dark hair swept to one side to lie in smooth curls against her shoulder, looking very much like an angel herself in that new gold and ivory dress. He decided to indulge her, going so far as to even sing with her. There was nothing like it, that intoxicating rush of their two voices perfectly matching, blending in harmony, soaring to impossible heights, trembling with emotion, that look of fierce and possessive adoration and awe in her eyes, in his veins.

Afterwards he stoked the fire and Christine turned off all of the lights save for the candles above the hearth and on the side table. Erik pulled her into his arms and down on the sofa, where they spent a pleasant half hour of soft kisses and caresses, murmuring words no other ears would ever hear. At midnight the bells rang out across the city, and she rose, throwing the casement windows wide, so that the frosty air and glorious peals swirled into their rooms above the city. Erik stood behind her in the shadows, his arms pulling her against his lean chest for warmth, and they stood listening until the last echoes died away.

When his cherished Christine began to shiver from the frigid night air, he gently pushed her toward the fire and leaned out to secure the windows and heavy draperies again. Surely now was the right time. Erik entered his study and tripped the mechanism that released the far left bookcase with a soft click. He tugged it outward—the hinges were stiff from disuse—and behind the shelves ran a very narrow passage, leading across the apartment down to a shaft that would eventually lead to a service corridor on the lowest level of the building. But for now, the passageway held a gift, a box wrapped in red and gold heavy paper, a gift for his beloved.

He placed it on the sofa beside her silently. What did one say when giving a gift? He had never done so. Until Christine, there had been no one in his life he had cared for, to have wanted to surprise, to provide for. Erik felt a tiny twitch of his lips at her exclamation of pleasure and excitement as she pulled off the lid and plunged her hands inside, raising the soft brown mass and clasping it under her chin, brushing the shining fur against her cheek.

"Oh my….Erik…it's gorgeous! And so _soft_! I never thought I'd ever…and it's so _warm_! Oh Erik, thank you!" And she flung herself into his arms, kissing him rapturously.

"I take it I chose well?" he said smugly, allowing himself a moment of pleased triumph at his wife's obvious pleasure.

"Oh you did! However did you know? I can't wait to show Meg!" Christine's dark blue eyes were sparkling, and her smile deepened as she saw his glance slide over her shoulder with the faintest touch of longing at the package on the piano. She dropped a kiss on his thinning hair and rose in a swirl of skirts.

He sat tensely on the sofa in an agony of suspense. Christine held out the small box and for a moment, Erik could only stare at it. Slowly his long fingers curled around it, taking the box from her.

"Open it!" she urged, smiling.

Carefully he untied the silk ribbon, laying it aside. He shook it gently once again, and then cautiously, as if fearing the contents, lifted the lid, sucking in his breath sharply.

Nestled in black velvet lay a gleaming gold pocket watch with a heavy gold link chain. Carefully he lifted the object out—why were his fingers shaking?—and popped the cover open. Graceful ornate hands on an oyster colored background on one side, on the other, inside the case, engraving.

 _Erik,_

 _All of my love_

 _Forever,_

 _Christine_

"Do you like it?" she was saying anxiously, at his silence, and Erik raised glowing eyes.

"I have never received a gift before…I hardly know what to say," he whispered. "It is…yes, it is perfect. I…thank you. Thank you, Christine."

He pulled her close, kissing her with tears in his eyes, holding this woman who had redeemed his life, his very soul, made him human once again, thanking her for everything.

For there would be time now, time for everything, for anything, for these two lost souls joined as one.

* * *

Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment. Happy holidays, everyone!


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